


Decisions to Make

by DustyP



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyP/pseuds/DustyP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment of decision for Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions to Make

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This is my first Sentinel story, and hope readers like it as much as I did writing it.  
> Feedback: Always happy to get.  
> Disclaimer: This is an amateur story written purely for the enjoyment of fans. The characters do not belong to me. No copyright infringement intended to Pet Fly, or any other individuals or companies concerned.

 The silver limousine waited patiently at the kerb, the passenger in the rear seat fidgeting as he waited for the other man to finish his conversation and get into the car.

Jim Ellison, immaculately clad in dark blue jacket, white shirt and grey trousers, which showed off his tall, broad-shouldered figure to perfection, stood on the sidewalk, looking at his friend, concern in his light-blue eyes.

 Blair Sandburg was staring down at the ground, trying to keep the emotions from showing on his usually expressive features and in his eyes. With his shoulder-length hair, hanging in loose, rich brown curls around his face, all Jim could see from this angle was the line of long, dark lashes shadowing Sandburg’s cheeks.

His roommate was casually dressed in sneakers, black jeans, blue t-shirt under a checked black and white flannel shirt, the clothes loose and comfortable on his compact body.

 “We okay here, Chief?”  Jim’s voice questioned, beginning to get worried at the lack of warmth on his friend’s face.

 “Yeah, sure...no problem.” Sandburg’s tone was flat with the effort to conceal his disappointment.  He glanced up at the taller man, then quickly lowered his eyes, not wanting Ellison to see the hurt he couldn’t hide this time.

 “Next free weekend, we’ll go fishing.” Jim’s voice sounded sincere, but Blair knew that it was just words.  If Jim Ellison really wanted to spend a whole weekend with just him, a fishing rod, and a clear running river, there would be no postponements... and this one was number...?  Oh yeah, the third one in a row.

 “Sandburg?”

 “Yes, Jim... I hear you... next free weekend we both have...”   _Which will be .... a_ _mere three months away,_ Blair thought resentfully _._   He flapped a hand vaguely in lieu of a goodbye and turned away from the half-open door of the limousine. He moved back towards the entrance to the loft, hands in the back pockets of his jeans, eyes on the ground.

He didn’t know why he’d bothered to come down to see the Ellison brothers off for their family weekend.  Maybe he’d had a faint hope that his presence would get Jim to change his mind and go on their promised mini vacation, after all. 

Fat chance!  Blair snorted to himself. 

Ever since Jim had started to unbend a little and try to forget, or at least forgive, some of the hurtful events of his younger days and spend more time with his father and brother, Blair had become less and less a priority to Jim, at least socially.

It didn’t help the grad student’s mood to know that it was partly his own fault - he’d encouraged Jim to meet up with his father and his brother as often as possible, but...

Hell! He hadn’t realised it would mean being totally forgotten.  He’d thought he’d get to see his partner at least some of the free time they had together, maybe even have been invited to join the two brothers occasionally.  It seemed, however, that only at the Precinct and helping Jim at crime scenes, was his presence now required. Much as he actively enjoyed helping Jim with his Sentinel senses, that hurt, especially after everything they’d shared over the past two years.  Blair had begun to believe that he was now accepted by Captain Banks and the other detectives in Major Crimes, or at least most of them.  He’d thought that the deepening bond of friendship, respect and trust he had for Ellison was shared by the man he admired above all others: seems he’d been wrong.  Jim accepted his help both in and out of the office, had even seemed to enjoy his company in his off-duty hours too, yet blood was proving very definitely to be thicker than friendship.

Okay, Sandburg!  Time for a change.

He didn’t need the Cascade Mountains to fall on him, he could take a hint. Long past time to get his butt into gear and find some other company to share his free time. He had other male friends at the University and knew a few girls who wouldn’t be averse to spending some time with him, BUT, delightful as female company was, he missed being ‘one of the guys’ with Jim.  Going to a JAGS game;  sitting on the sofa, watching TV, with the two of them yelling abuse at the screen, and drinking beer out of a bottle still cold from the fridge.  The camaraderie; the teasing; the mock fights over their different food preferences; talking about anything and everything that had happened to them during the day... these scenes had been lacking of late.  Blair missed them, he missed ‘socialising’ with Jim. 

 A frown settled between Jim’s brows as he tracked the smaller figure walking away. Without effort, he could hear the rapid beat of his Guide’s heart as Sandburg fought for control of his emotions. At the back of Jim’s mind he’d known the younger man would be disappointed, but surely Blair didn’t mind him spending time with his family? He had, after all, been urging Jim to stay in touch with his father.  The Ellisons had a lot of years to catch up on, and were trying to re-establish their family unit, a slow process at the best of times.

“Jim, you coming?”  An impatient voice from inside the car demanded.   Jim nodded absently, then said “Just a second Stephen...just want to be sure Blair is okay.”

 “Oh for God’s sake, Jim, he’s not a kid...he’ll be fine.  Probably glad to get out from under your feet.  I bet he’s got a few student parties lined up for this weekend.”

“I suppose...” Jim still sounded hesitant, then sighed and climbed into the seat beside his younger brother; but the remembered sound of Blair’s flat tone and the flash of hurt in those dark blue eyes, wouldn’t leave him alone. He also knew that Blair wouldn’t have any student parties lined up, he’d been packing to go on their fishing trip when Jim had broken the news about his father’s weekend invitation, and asked for a rain-check on their planned trip.

 “Hang on, stop...” he called to the driver as the car started to move away. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

 “Oh for...”

 Stephen’s grousing followed Jim as he hurried back into his building and paused at the bottom of the stairs.

 Filtering out his brother’s sulky words, and the street sounds, Jim sent his senses ahead and heard the sound of footsteps as Blair walked across the wooden floor of the loft... he was mumbling to himself.

“Yeah, sure...I’ll be fine, Jim...what else do I have to do on my only free weekend for another couple’a months... maybe I’ll go see if Simon wants to go fishing seeing as I’ve already packed the gear. Ooops, can’t do that, Simon’s away with Darryl on one of those father/son weekend parties....” There was a pause then a sigh, “Sounds kinda nice...wish I’d had...” another pause and the slap of a hand hitting his forehead. “Oh don’t be such a wimp Sandburg...you’ve managed so far without a father.”

For some reason, Jim found his heart aching in sympathy with Blair at his lack of a father and the kid’s lonely vulnerability exposed in those few sentences.  Blair had seemed to accept his lack of a male parent all the time Jim had known him, so this was a bit of a surprise to the older man.

Upstairs, Blair surveyed the scattered piles of camping gear strewn across the floor.  “Better get this sorted out before Jim gets back - he’ll go ballistic...”

He picked up the big cool-box full of bottles and started into the kitchen to put the liquid refreshments back into the ‘fridge.

“Wonder if H, or Rafe... Nah...can’t see either of them wanting to go fishing, let alone spend some time with me...they’ve got family too...”

Intent on his thoughts, he didn’t see the tackle-box just in front of him and kicked the side; stumbling, he tried to step over it but his foot caught the edge, throwing him off balance. Dropping one end of the cool-box he reached out frantically to catch the edge of the kitchen counter, and the cool-box slipped out of his grasp and landed squarely on his foot.

Letting go of the other end of the box he clutched his injured foot, swearing out loud at the pain as he hopped towards the sofa.   “Shit!”

Downstairs, Jim, despite his inner musings, could still hear his roommate’s soft mutterings and the sound of things being shifted across the floor, but it was the thud of something heavy being dropped and Blair’s muttered curse that had the detective taking the stairs two at a time, racing up to see what had happened.    Key already in hand, he pushed open the door just in time to see his partner flop down on the couch, holding his left foot.

“Damn!”  Sandburg gritted through clenched teeth, that had hurt.

“Chief?  You okay?”

Jim’s voice jerked Sandburg into sitting upright, his mouth open, blue eyes wide with surprise. “Jim?  What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” was the terse reply.

“You forget something?”

“Yes, I did.”  Jim crossed to kneel by the side of the couch, gently lifting his friend’s left leg to examine it.

“What? What did you forget?” Sandburg’s tone was ironic, as he went on. “You never forget anything when you pack.  This has to be a first.”

“I forgot you,” said Jim levelly, “and my promise for this weekend.” He paused, looking steadily into his partner’s eyes as he confessed. “Sorry Chief. I didn’t mean to let my family get between us.” He felt a sudden easing of a weight and tension in his mind he hadn’t known he was carrying until he spoke.

Blair searched the remorseful blue eyes and saw the plain truth of that statement, and felt the icy loneliness that had been filling him these past few weeks, seep slowly away.  He smiled -  the open, radiant smile of pure happiness, that had most people smiling back at him.

“That’s okay, Jim. I know you need to reconnect to your family...” He flinched as Jim untied his sneaker and gently pulled it and his sock off. “Ow! That hurts...” he said trying to remove his foot from Jim’s hold.

“What happened?” Jim held on firmly, ignoring the other man’s attempt to escape.

“Tripped on the tackle-box and dropped the cool-box on my foot,” explained Sandburg, between gasps of pain. “Man, that beer sure weighs a ton.”

“Well yes, half a brewery would weigh a lot,” said Jim absently, as he examined the injured foot for any sign of a broken bone.

“What?” Sandburg’s expression was a mixture of pain and surprise. 

“That box holds a lot of bottles, Chief.  You didn’t have to fill it to capacity,” explained Jim, with a half smile, his fingers ghosting lightly over the younger man’s skin as he searched for further injuries.

“Well, fishing is thirsty work, I wanted to make sure we didn’t run out...” Blair stopped abruptly, flushing slightly at the thought that Jim might think he was making a cheap crack about the aborted weekend, then winced as even the Sentinel’s gentle touch made agony flare through his foot.

“Is anything broken?” he asked, leaning forward.

“Don’t think so,” said Jim, “There’s a mark here where the corner of the box hit your instep and I can feel the heat of broken blood vessels, and it’s starting to bruise...” he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated his touch around Blair’s ankle.  “Your ankle is starting to swell, you must have wrenched it when you tripped.”  He sat back on his heels and looked straight at his partner, their eyes only inches apart.  “You’re gonna have to stay off it for a little while.”

“Oh that’s just great,” muttered Blair, leaning back against the cushions, both hands pushing his hair back as he wondered how many pagan deities he’d offended in his short life. “Not only don’t I get to go fishing on my weekend off, I have to spend the whole time with my foot in plaster...”  His voice tailed off and his face flushed, then went white as he realised he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. “Er..I mean...”

 “Yeah, I know, life sucks!” Jim used Sandburg’s own favourite phrase; it was his only outward reaction to Sandburg’s words, although they had hit home.  He  got to his feet and went into the kitchen while Blair raised his eyes ceilingwards and cursed his wayward tongue.

Jim came back with a packet of frozen vegetables in his hand and carefully placed it over Blair’s foot, then wrapped a towel round both bag and foot and placed it on the coffee table.

 “Keep it elevated,” he ordered.

“Broccoli?” Blair said, noticing the type of vegetable.  “What happened to the frozen peas we usually use?” he added, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“We ate ‘em,” said Jim, a faint grin lightening his serious expression.

Blair chuckled, then winced as he moved his foot.  He fidgeted for a second, then said... “Hey, look, Jim, I’m sorry for...” He was interrupted by an irate voice from the doorway. 

“Jim? What the hell is keeping you?  We’re going to be late for Dad’s party.”

Stephen Ellison stood just inside the loft, his eyes flashing with anger, which he directed at the younger man sitting on the couch.

 “Oh, yes..the party...”  Jim thought for a moment, then crossed to the phone.

He dialled a number and stared out of the window, seeming to ignore the other two occupants glaring at each other. Blair didn’t know what he’d done to incur Stephen’s wrath, but he wasn’t going to be intimidated.  Jim didn’t frighten him, so sure as hell Stephen couldn’t.

The line buzzed, then was answered.

“Oh hey Dad, glad I caught you.” Jim spoke into the mouthpiece. “Look, there’s been a change in plans.... no, no... Stephen is here with me... but I’m afraid I won’t be able to spend the whole weekend...”

He bent his head, staring at the floor as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone, then said.  “It’s just that I forgot I’d promised Blair we’d go fishing this weekend, and as it’s the last one we both have free for a while...” he nodded, “yes, I do understand that Dad, but...”

He listened again, then said. “Okay, I’ll ask him.”

Without bothering to cover the mouthpiece he turned and fixed Blair with his ice-blue gaze.   

“Dad wants to know whether you’d consider coming to his party and stay for the weekend... he would’ve suggested it earlier, but thought you would have other plans.”

Blair’s mouth fell open in stunned astonishment. “What?” he gasped.

“Do you want to come with me to Dad’s party for the weekend?” Jim asked with surprising patience, a glimmer of a smile warming the blue of his eyes.

“Er...well, I.. um...” Blair was flustered, this was one invitation he would’ve made bets on never receiving. “...don’t really know...what about my foot.”  He glanced over at Stephen, still standing just inside the room.  Sensing the younger Ellison’s disapproval at the invitation, his dazed happiness instantly deflated.  “No, no, thank him for asking, but I’d better stay here and er... rest my foot.”

By the door, Stephen suppressed a sigh of relief.  He really had nothing against the grad student; the times he’d spent with him in the company of Jim’s other friends, he’d found the younger man amusing and surprisingly at ease among the older detectives. His name, however, featured a lot in Jim’s conversation and he was getting just a little tired of hearing of Blair’s activities. After all, the kid did actually live here with his brother, so they must have plenty of time to socialise with each other. He ignored the little voice of reason whispering to his conscience, that with Blair’s school work, and Jim’s hours at the Precinct, that wasn’t always the case... but, he wanted Jim to himself as much as possible. He’d really enjoyed their recent weekends together, it took him back to ... before... before they were teenagers and started to be rivals for their father’s attention.

Jim nodded as though he’d expected Sandburg’s answer, then said into the phone.  “We’ll be there later, Dad... when I get things sorted out this end. Bye...”

He replaced the phone and turned to face the two younger men.  “Stephen, you take the limo and go straight to Dad’s place, I’ll get Blair packed and meet you there...okay?”

Stephen glared at Jim, then at Blair, then back at Jim. “I thought this weekend was for family... guess I was wrong.”

Jim refused to allow the surge of anger he felt to surface as he saw the twin, pink spots of embarrassment on his partner’s cheeks.

 “No, you’re not wrong, Stephen, but Blair has become family too.”  His tone was quiet, but very sincere.

Stephen sniffed. “I see... well, that just about says everything.  See you later... Big Brother.”

 The door slammed behind him, leaving a small pool of silence behind.

Bair’s mortified flush of anger at Stephen’s spiteful tone faded to pleased surprise at Jim’s words, and he turned astonished eyes on his friend, the man who usually had very little to say on emotional issues.

“Thanks, Jim,” he said simply.  He was astounded; he’d wanted friendship and had been given family.

Jim waved a hand.  “Just the truth, Chief.  Don’t mind Stephen too much, he’s just jealous of a younger sibling...”

“Really?” Blair hugged the thought of having brothers to himself, it felt good.  Then he sighed, his mood deflating again. “Perhaps it would be better if I didn’t go to your family party, Jim.  I wouldn’t want to cause any friction between you and Stephen, or your father.  He’s bound to side with Stephen.”

Jim stretched.  “Maybe he will, but I think my father has learned a little more about people than Stephen has.  Dad likes you, Blair, or he wouldn’t have invited you to his home.”

Jim stared into space for a moment, trying to put things together. Over the past few weeks, he’d put his family before everyone else, his friends at the Precinct, Simon and even Blair, had all taken a back seat while he discovered that blood ties did count for something after all.  Finding out that he actually cared about his father and brother, however, shouldn’t mean that he forgot about his friends. The friends who’d stayed by him and supported him all the years his family hadn’t; especially this young grad student, who had turned his life upside down and made things right in more ways than with his Sentinel senses.

He’d known of Blair’s disappointment the first time he’d bailed out of the fishing weekend, but had felt there was plenty of time for them to spend together.  After all, they did live in the same house - and it was only for a weekend. 

Then there’d been the next time...and the next... how many times would he go back on his promises, before Blair gave up and went looking for more reliable friends?  He knew Sandburg had plenty of friends at the University both among the faculty members and other TA’s, but he’d called Jim his best friend; that had to mean something more than giving Jim enough room in which to lose himself - and his friend.

Thank goodness, Jim thought, that he’d had the urge to come and check on his roommate, and overheard Blair’s emotional diatribe. He’d been reminded that Blair was part of his life now ... even more than his blood relatives, and not just because of the Sentinel thing.  Warned now of what he could lose, he was determined not to allow this friendship to slip through his fingers, even if it meant lowering a few of his barriers. 

Ellison heard Blair clear his throat and tuned in to what the younger man was saying.

 “It’s very kind of your father, Jim... but I’d be intruding on a family party.  I know you need to be with your father and brother. I’ll be fine, really I will. I was just a bit...y’know disappointed, ‘cos I was looking forward...y’know...”  He waved a vague hand at the camping gear still strewn around the loft, “but honestly, I’ll be fine here. I’ll ring Susan at Rainier and get her to bring me some of my notes for next ...”

“No,” said Jim, firmly.  “You are going to have a restful weekend, not go staying up all hours doing school work. If you really don’t want to go to Dad’s party, that’s okay,  I’ll stay here.  You’ll need someone to look after you until you can stand on that foot...”

Blair opened his mouth, irritation beginning to stir at being told what to do; although it was very nice to think that Jim cared enough to offer to stay, he was well able to look after himself. Hell, he’d been doing it for many years before he’d even met Jim.

“Look, Jim, it’s my stupidity that I hurt my foot and I can take care of myself.  Don’t go laying a guilt trip on me.  You go to your family party and I’ll see you on Monday.  Okay?”

Jim shrugged and took off his jacket, loosening his tie.  “Fine by me,” he said, sitting down beside Blair. “I didn’t really want to go to a party, drink champagne, eat all those exotic foodstuffs...” He glanced sideways at the stubborn set of Blair’s full lips, and continued lightly. “I mean, a houseful of strangers, even if they are all related, who will talk at me, through me...just because I’m my father’s eldest son, I’d be bored rigid. I’d much rather stay here and hear you bitch on about your foot.”

He grinned disarmingly...and Blair felt his irritated anger melt away.

After a few minutes, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “Okay... you win.  Go pack me a bag, we’ll go and face your strange relatives together...but I warn you,” he turned, shaking an admonishing finger, “I don’t have any fancy clothes for partying with the rich folk.”

“Remember me, Chief?  I’m the one you’ve lived with for the past couple of years.  I know what you have in your wardrobe, so don’t try and con me.”

“I knew buying that tuxedo for the Race Track shindig would be a mistake,” sighed Blair. 

Jim laughed outright as he got to his feet.  His hand flashed out to cuff the back of his friend’s head, then tousled his curly hair into even more disorder, ignoring Blair’s usual protest of “Aw...man...”

“Stay put,” he ordered, “and keep that bag of broccoli on your foot, until I can get it taped up.”

“I think I prefer the frozen peas, Jim,” Blair grumbled as he leaned forward and lifted the towel off his injured limb. “They have a better class of packaging.”

“Picky, picky...” Jim’s quiet chuckle sounded through his open bedroom door, and Blair smiled. 

Right at this minute, cold, aching foot not withstanding, all was perfect in his world.

~~~~~~~~~

 (c) Dusty P

11th April, 2004

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